Redemption
by Odd Affections
Summary: Through a twist of fate, the crew of the Jupiter 2 encounters another Earth vessel. On that vessel is a woman who was once a close friend and confidant of Dr. Zachary Smith, but their friendship ended in one angry outburst that Smith had regretted ever since. Will he be able to repair that friendship and perhaps turn it into something more?
1. Chapter 1

Authors' note: This story can be read as a standalone or could be considered a sequel to "Trouble in Paradise" (TIP). This story, however, was the first written, over a decade ago. We present it in its original form, without edits to correct for continuity established in TIP.

"You will do it and you will do it _now_!" Growled Don West, as he shoved a small shoulder pack at the middle-aged man before him.

"Indeed, Major!" snarled Dr. Zachary Smith, glaring daggers at the young athletic looking pilot. "Since when have I become your servant? I will not take orders from you. Not now. Not ever. Let me remind you that you are not in charge here. When, and only when, Professor Robinson issues a command will I take it seriously!" He paused for effect, giving the young man a mocking smirk, before continuing, "Even then, I am the master of my own fate and shall do as I please!"

Don growled angrily, "When John isn't around, I…" and he dug his forefinger into his own chest "…am in command!"

"Then I shall suggest to the Professor that he consider pulling your flyboy license and the keys to the Jupiter, since, under your inept leadership, we are forever running out of 'gas' in the middle of nowhere!"

Smith stifled a laugh as the Major seethed silently. He could see the red flush creeping up West's neck, a definite sign the man was almost ready to blow, but Smith simply couldn't help himself. Next to eating and relaxing, tormenting the man was his favorite occupation. If there was a decent taunt to be flung, or a barbed insult to be hurled, he wasn't going to let the opportunity fly by without some response on his part.

By the time the angry red rush of molten human blood cells had reached Don's forehead, the veins there had begun to throb visibly, a sure sign that an eruption was imminent.

After 3 years of verbal sparring, Smith knew enough to anticipate the Major's reactions long before West himself knew what he'd do. The Doctor recognized this was the point of no return. If he didn't back down now, the major would turn threatening words into threatening gestures.

"_Care to try your luck today, Zachary?"_ he asked himself, pondering which course to take. Without making it obvious, he scanned the area behind and on either side of the Major. Was there anyone he could run to for succor? Preferably Judy or Maureen Robinson? That would have been ideal. A head-long dash to their proximity, along with much feigned terror, would have them backing him up in a heart beat.

Everyone knew about Don's temper where Smith was concerned. And everyone recognized Smith's constant irritating behaviors, since that never failed to irk the Major. Yet the Doctor was always careful to make certain those efforts appeared unintentional or due to a clash of two very dissimilar personalities. Nevertheless, mother and daughters always came to his rescue, regardless of the nature of the dispute.

Today, however, his 'rescuers' were no where in sight. And he definitely wasn't feeling the urge to race off in search of them…too much energy expenditure. Besides, he had no inclination to overexert himself on such a glorious morning, particularly not because he'd just goaded that hot-headed Major into a furious footrace.

Slowly, Smith's blue eyes, brightened by laughter, glanced down to his feet. It wasn't an attempt to appear humble or worried. Rather it was a way of surreptitiously looking at the Majors hands, which at that moment just so happened to have been balled up by his sides, the knuckles white from the pressure of his grip.

"_Not a good sign, old boy", _he chided himself gently, "_he's clearly not in the mood to play today." _Then Smith spoke aloud, with a rich baritone timber that sounded like the purr of a satiated cat. "Very well, Major, have it your way…today! Never let it be said that Dr. Zachary Smith was unwilling to lend a hand where needed."

"'Bout time!" growled West, as he slammed the bag into Smith's chest, making sure the shove was enough to unbalance his adversary.

It succeeded. Smith threw one foot backward to regain his balance and adopted a sheepish expression while raising the bagless hand in submission.

"John says he wants you to sample as much of the valley plant life as you can before 2PM. After that, he wants you back here…and don't even think about taking a nap along the way. You'd better get what John wants, when he wants it, or the next time, I'll build a cattle prod and poke your sorry behind all the way there and back!"

Smith stiffened visibly, squaring his shoulders. Though he made no further move, his mind was racing. _"That's a new one! He's even more obnoxious than usual. I wonder what's gotten into him? Judy and he have a recent tiff? "_ He arched one eyebrow indignantly to hide his true thoughts, and gave a full throated "BAH! You wouldn't dare!" and just as quickly marched away, expeditiously removing himself from the Major's proximity before any threats could be acted upon.

Smith stomped off in a visible 'huff', forcing the action only because he continued to feel the Major's eyes boring laser holes into his back. "_Still in all, Zachary, this hasn't been such a fruitless interaction. Perhaps I can use something out of this to my advantage later!" _Once certain no one could see him, he allowed a tight smile to crease his thin lips. Oh, how he'd enjoy forcing that mule-headed, testosterone driven, boorish brat into a state of insanity some day…

"But not before you get us home…or barring that…to a reasonable facsimile", he murmured dreamily. "yes, it is sad but true, that I, such a great man of science, should be stuck out in the middle of the universe, with no prospects of ever again blessing Earth with my vast intellect." And he chuckled heartily at the sound of his own pompous comments. '_Never let it be said that Colonel Zachary Smith, M.D. couldn't laugh at himself.' _And he grinned yet again.

"My, my, we are at our arrogant best today, aren't we?" a female voice clipped from behind him and off to his left.

Pivoting quickly, he saw the woman and blushed like a young man who'd just made a jerk out of himself in front of the wrong company. Ramming both hands into his nearly non-existent pockets he halted in his tracks, nearly slipping on the soft, almost muddy ground.

'_You Fool! You jerk!' _ he berated himself with a mental kick in the pants. Of all the people to come along at that very moment!

Aloud, he apologized with such humility and alacrity that the Robinson's would have been shocked. "Sorry, my dear. Couldn't help m'self."

"Well, if I were you, I'd quit talking to myself when others are around to hear it." The woman giggled at the repentant expression on Smith's face. "Should I go? You don't seem glad to see me."

When he didn't seem inclined to answer, she added softly, "Alright, I thought you'd be happy to see me but if you're not then I'll just…"

Smith blurt a forceful "NO!" that surprised them both. Once more he felt an embarrassing heat scorching his face. "It's not like that, you must believe me!" He waited until she was but a few feet from him. Slowly he leaned closer as if to prevent any hidden spectators from overhearing his words. "Melissa, I am unbelievably overjoyed that you are at least being civil to me. Since we've been reunited I've feared that you would never accept my heartfelt pleas for forgiveness."

Arms crossed before her chest, she replied ruefully, "Well, since it was such an appropriately spontaneous and groveling entreaty, how couldn't I at least consider forgiveness?" The memory of Smith verbally plunging himself into the depths of abject remorse a week ago brought a tight smile to her lips.

Unconsciously, Smith also crossed his arms but not in defensiveness. In truth, he desperately wanted to reach out, to touch her, pull her into his embrace and hang on until he was absolutely certain she truly understood the depths of his misery. He'd never intended to hurt her all those years ago. He'd lashed out without any forethought, purely in anger. Once out, the words couldn't be recalled. The damage had been done.

'_And it's all Clarissa's fault,'_ he muttered. In the deep chasms of his mind, memories suddenly flooded his thoughts…

Hooking Clarissa, a trophy girlfriend if ever there was one, had been relatively easy. He had relished the envious glances of every single fellow and supposedly happily married man at Alpha Control because he had attracted the attention of the most desirable woman there.

In the next heartbeat, images of one particular argument had risen with the sting of acid on an open wound. Clarissa had been incensed over his relationship with Melissa.

"We're just platonic companions," he'd told her for what seemed like the millionth time.

Her scathing reply was unbecoming, as it was sputtered through sensual lips, which at that moment were turned down and losing color around the edges. "Oh really? You mean to tell me that little trip you took was not about you and her together."

Angrily, and the flare of his emotions surprised him, he had rounded on her and hissed, "You were not here. Away at your mother's house is what you said. A long vacation. I saw no reason not to take the cruise to the Bahamas. When I realized Melissa's birthday was right around the corner, I decided to give the trip to her as a birthday present. There was nothing wrong with it, she is merely a friend."

"Right!" the beautiful redhead spit back. "How convenient…you and her together, and oh, "while we're at it, why don't we just save some cash and bunk together!"

Despite the rise in his blood pressure and the surging of his pulse throughout his arteries, he calmly replied, "I'll have you know that it happened just as I said. She remained in one room, and I in the other! Alone, thank you very much. As far as you should be concerned, the two words 'Melissa' and 'sex' should never share the same sentence."

Slowly the anger faded and he reached out to stroke her exquisitely soft cheek. "She's not my type, except as a friend. I enjoy talking to her. We share some common interests. Nothing more than that. Clarissa," and he leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, "you are the most desirable woman that has ever existed. There is no other love in my life but you."

Emerald eyes softened a bit at the persuasiveness of his tone. Calculatingly, she had entered his arms, allowing her lips to meet his in a searing kiss filled with passion and promise.

Smith had thereafter congratulated himself on smooth maneuvering in order to get her off his back where his social life was concerned. Life had returned to normal until Melissa had discovered her dirty little secret, the constant infidelities with some muscle-bound lothario in the MP division and told him of it. Whether she should have kept it quiet or not was a moot point because Clarissa had gone on the warpath shortly before that anyway.

It had been a horrible afternoon, made worse by Clarissa's phone call. THE phone call, the one with the word "ultimatum" in it, even though that wasn't the exact word used. The message was clear. "It's either her or me, honey!"

Always good at containing his anger unless it suited him otherwise, Smith had grown genuinely outraged at the unfairness of it all, not to mention the obvious attempt to manipulate him. Heretofore, _he _ had been the master manipulator and he resented the loss of control over the situation.

Not long after, Melissa had walked in, quite calmly, and softly stated, "Zachary, I have to tell you something that you aren't going to want to hear. But you have to believe I'm not saying this for any other reason aside from not wanting you to be used." She'd paused to study his countenance, which had darkened steadily since she'd strolled into his office.

When it became obvious that he wasn't going to coax her for more information, she decided to plunge ahead. "I went to the Rooftop Café last night with Katrina…you remember her…and I passed by the Skylight Inn. Uh…Zachary, well…this is painful for me to say. And please don't get me wrong and think I'm gaining anything by this, but you have to know." She drew a hasty breath and blew it out through pursed lips before plunging onward.

"Okay, here it is, straight up. I saw her…Clarissa, I mean, coming out of a motel room at the Skylight, with Crutchfield. You know him, the really big guy who guards the gate to the compound. He was, you know… being overly friendly. I mean, they sure weren't kissing like two old chums saying goodbye."

Melissa's head had hung down as she'd rushed through her oratory, unwilling to look her friend in the eye. What ensued next had kicked the breath out of her lungs in an excruciating explosion, as the Doctor rolled up out of his chair, leaned over the mahogany desk, palms flat and fingers splayed. A look of fury like she'd never seen before had etched itself into every crease and line on his face.

Words flew past taut lips as he'd told her just what he thought of her evaluation of his love life, which was clearly none of her business anyway, he'd added, and, in essence, he'd verbally drop kicked her out of the office.

Unable to face him after that, she'd packed her bags and disappeared, not even using Alpha Control as a reference. At least not that he was aware of after numerous inquiries at the base's Personnel department.

That was the last time Smith had seen her until the AC3 landed on this out-of-the-way planet in this who-knew-what section of the galaxy. They'd all been pretty amazed that an earth ship had found it's way to this wonderfully earth-like planet, and even more amazed as Captain Purandre had informed them that 'the Alpha Centauri 3 mission had been privately funded after Alpha Control had finally scrapped the mission.'

"Yes," he'd gloated, "this mission was a tribute to private entrepreneurs everywhere, 100 men and women dedicated to the same mission as yours but on a much grander scale." At this point he'd had the decency to look sheepish as he'd added with a half-hearted wave of his dark-skinned hand, "Of course, we never expected to run afoul of some gigantic vessel who's drive systems latched on to us. It pulled us way off course before the on-board computers revived the pilot. Unfortunately, those infernal creatures burst into hyperdrive with us in tow. By the time most of us were awake and doing what we could to pull free, we were already hopelessly lost."

And that was when Melissa had first appeared in the Robinson camp, looking as full figured and full of life as he'd last remembered.

It had been nearly 5 long empty years since he'd gazed into those hurt and angry hazel eyes. Clarissa had been long gone in a deadly explosion aboard the Jupiter 1. And it had soon hit him that he wasn't as sorry over her passing as he was over the loss of his friend…the one person he would drop the façade for, the one who had looked deep into his soul and cared about him anyway. Melissa had accepted him at his worst and, in return, it had been an easy step to trust her with his best.

It amazed him that, untold millions of miles away from earth, he was once more looking into the same hazel gaze that used to glitter with wry humor, though now it was currently colored by the smallest touch of suspicion.

Truth to tell he didn't blame her one bit. He'd deserved it. Deserved it still. Not a moment had passed over the last week when he didn't thank his lucky stars for her compassionate, forgiving nature.

"_A fresh start,"_ he exulted mentally then finished with yet another self-recriminating reminder, "_Only this time you'd better get it right!"_

When his reveries ended he found Melissa staring at him with concern. "You alright? It looked like you zoned out for moment there."

"No need to fear for my welfare, my dear. Things couldn't be more perfect." Smith bestowed a full smile upon her. Though his friend didn't know it, that smile was a rare occurrence for him since he'd been trapped on the Jupiter 2.

Unaware of what he had been thinking, Melissa rewarded him with a wry smirk and a quick shake of her head.

As far as Smith was concerned, if she wanted to treat him like he was a bit 'tetched' in the head, so be it. He was willing to put up with more than anyone realized in order to renew the relationship back to the way it had been…and then some.

Melissa drew up right along side him, noticing the way he was now clasping his fingers before him as if he was nervous. "So, what were you up to?"

Smith shrugged noncommittally and looked in the general direction he had planned on going. "I was asked to head down to the valley and gather some botanical samples. The professor is more interested in their usefulness as a food source. I however, would like to investigate their potential medicinal value."

"That wasn't exactly the tenor of the discussion I heard when the Major was with you,"

"West is an idiot," he blurt out then instantly regretted it.

"We are all like that at one time or another," she replied with a raised eyebrow.

Smith gave her a half-smile. "No. I'm not an idiot. I'm a jerk. There's a difference."

In spite of herself, a laugh whooshed out through her nicely shaped lips. "Well if you say so!" and she laughed harder.

It felt good to see her chuckle like that and Smith almost said as much but instead, he nodded toward the hillside path. "Care to accompany me on my chore?" he asked hopefully, trying to keep the yearning he felt well hidden.

Watching him carefully, trying to gauge his mood, she gave a quick hitch of one shoulder by way of an answer and headed down the path.

For a short moment, Smith took in the gentle sway of her wide hips, and the way her knapsack bounced against her back.

Then, stifling a loud exhalation of relief, Smith jogged to catch up.

Settling in beside her, and walking at a comfortable pace, he allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the beauty of this world. The azure waters in the narrow lake far below him, then the lavender, violet, mauve and lilac leaves fanning out in various shapes and sizes from bone white tree limbs, merging into the blue/green sky. All seemed more lovely to him at that very moment than they ever had before.

Her voice cut into his musings. "Has it been hard here compared with other places you've landed on?"

Without meeting her gaze he replied, "This place is undoubtedly one of the most hospitable of all the worlds we've lived on. It certainly is the most like earth, despite the color variations. The predators are few, generally repulsed by laser fire. But I'm sure you knew all that."

"Some, though I spend most of my time as a researcher, as you well know."

"Indeed, I do," retorted the doctor in his most professional voice. "You were indisputably the best laboratory assistant I ever had."

Smith cringed as he saw the brief flare of pain in her eyes and instantly regretted the words. "I'm sorry, yet again. It would appear that I keep putting my foot in my mouth. It's not my intent to dredge up painful memories, especially when I have been the cause of that pain."

"You know Doctor, I…"

"Have things gotten so irreparably bad between us that you can't bear to use my name, Lissa?" queried Smith softly, caressing her own name as he spoke it.

Sarcastically, she retorted, "If you want the truth, I'm not sure what to call you anymore aside from some choice names best not said aloud." She bit her tongue to keep from saying more about it until she noticed the way he turned his face from her and picked up the pace. Without thinking about it, she reached out to touch his arm and felt him stiffen. "Oh Zachary, I guess old wounds are bringing out the 'jerk' in me too."

When he didn't stop walking, she jumped in front of him, forcing him to halt dead in his tracks or run her down. Smith wasn't a big man or a particularly muscular one, but he was deceptively strong as she'd known from personal experience. If he didn't stop, she'd be flat on her behind in a heartbeat, an indignity she didn't relish experiencing. Fortunately, he chose to come to an abrupt halt.

"Zach, listen, I have a lot of built up anger against you over the whole injustice of what you said to me that day. I know you have apologized profusely and believe it or not, I _have_ forgiven you but rebuilding a crippled friendship will take time, okay?"

When he didn't respond, Melissa pressed on, "I just want to ease back into getting to know you again. People change in such a short time. Besides, I have no desire to have you jump down my throat again. It was awful enough the first time."

This time, Smith did respond, morosely, "I've already explained that I wasn't angry at you. Clarissa was making me crazy and I loathe ultimatums. I was angry, yes, but primarily at her. What you told me didn't register until long after you were gone. And even then, I made a conscious decision not to accept it. The fault was entirely mine, and believe this if you believe nothing else, I deeply regretted every word I said and every minute from then on that you weren't in my life."

Shoulders hunching, he looked down at his dirt covered boots before continuing. "You gave my life joy and comfort and peace. Not even Clarissa could give me that. And if you want the honest truth, I knew she never would. She was in my life for reasons of pride and vanity, pure and simple. Clarissa was the kind of woman I thought I deserved. But I should never have sold out our friendship. I knew it the moment you walked out the door."

"But you let it all go, didn't you," Melissa replied coolly, more statement than question.

"I seem to recall that you made it impossible to locate you."

"Did you even try?" She muttered doubtfully.

Cautiously, Dr. Smith placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and met her questioning gaze with his own. "Yes. I asked around often enough that it would have surprised you. But I had to be careful…I am sure you understand."

"Not exactly, explain it to me."

Smith began to gently knead the muscles in her shoulder, liking their firmness beneath his exploring fingers. "Clarissa stuck to my side like a leech for months. In retrospect, I presume it was to make sure you didn't reappear unexpectedly."

Torn between conflicting emotions, Melissa shivered. On one side of the coin, she wasn't eager to hear about that red headed bimbo. On the other, she was feeling a most unexpected pleasure as the heat emanating from his fingers ignited tiny flames of delight racing up and down her spine. The slow, relaxing, yet sensual circling of fingertips had her knees turning weak in spite of her resolve to remain unaffected.

'_What IS going on with you?' _ she wanted to yell at him, as confusion kept her feet firmly planted. It wasn't like he'd never massaged away aches and pains before… but this time it was…different. And she wasn't sure what to make of it.

As if sensing her thoughts, he removed his hand from her shoulder, then stroked an unruly lock of dark hair away from her face. "Let's go shall we? We wouldn't want to upset the Major by showing up late or empty handed."


	2. Chapter 2

Setting out at an easy pace, they traversed through the upper path on the hillside with relative ease. It was narrow but level across and not too steep in it's decent. The recent string of storms had cause the springs near the upper portions of the hill to gush furiously over their meager banks and cascade at odd points along the trail.

Muddy cross-paths forced them to walk carefully at those points and finally they came to an area where a mudslide had washed out half the trail. Keeping as close to a wet craggy wall as possible they skirted the worst section and kept on moving downward.

By the time they had gotten midway down the hillside, their

boot-soles were covered with mud, and growing heavier by the minute.

"I am beginning to suspect this might not be such a good idea," Smith informed Melissa, while using a jagged rock to scrape off the cream-colored sludge from his boots for the fourth time.

Offering his hand, he supported her through another slippery spot. The tingling that rippled up his fingers at the touch of her hand was so pleasant he was reluctant to release his grip. And by her startled expression, he wondered if she had felt it too. Smiling self consciously, he let her fingers slide through his, surprised at the tangle of emotions he was feeling at the moment. Those annoying old records; _she's not your type, she's not the sort to make other men green with envy, g_rated irritatingly in his mind. And he wondered why he was even thinking about such things at a time like this.

"The return trip is going to be interesting," she commented after a few hundred yards had passed.

Groaning in sympathy, Smith muttered, "I'm dreading it already. I just hope that the flora below yields something useful."

Overhead a small creature fluttered and warbled loudly in passing, dive bombing the two travelers. In irritation, the Doctor swiped at it, though it was obvious that the half-hearted flick of his hand was not meant to injure the little creature.

"Harmless," explained Smith as he winged another open palmed swat at the little beast. "I know you've seen them around already but I can assure you we've had no problems from them. They hunt even smaller lizards." He pulled her back from the edge of the path before speaking again. "In fact, the majority of the beasts we've encountered are reptilian in form. There are subspecies of these creatures whose bites are poisonous. However, a full-sized human will merely get sick. William was bitten by one about a week after we landed and Mrs. Robinson nursed him through it without incident."

"Why didn't you get involved? You're the doctor," confusion dominated her expression.

"Because they think I'm inept and I like to keep it that way", he responded with a finality that indicated he would brook no further discussion on the matter.

Another winged lizard dipped and snapped an insect away before either of them could react to its proximity. The distraction served to bring the discussion to an uncomfortable close, though Melissa had no plans to let it drop entirely. At Alpha Control, Dr. Smith had been gifted, brilliant in his own unique way, though not the sort who enjoyed getting his hands 'dirty'. Still, he'd never hesitated to help her when she'd been feeling poorly. And, in spite of their newly renewed acquaintance, she could tell that these people he'd traveled with were already like family to him. So why refuse to aid them?

Her eyes turned to the man walking in silence beside her. The doctor looked somber and pensive. Since their separation, he'd erected walls she couldn't see over. It depressed her to know these were the same kinds of barriers he used to drop whenever he was with her.

A flock of winged lizards called to each other, pirouetting in and out of the lavender leaves, in the canopy above them. Curious, Melissa gazed upward again to watch their graceful dance. Smith, more observant at that particular moment, took a careful step over a fast running stream that burbled down from the hill to their right, across the path and dropped over the hill once more.

"Watch your step," Smith was warning when he heard her cry out in panic.

Whirling to his left, he caught site of her teetering on the slippery edge. She tried to right herself, sank to her knees and with pleading eyes, reached out for him.

Without a second's hesitation, he tried to grab her flailing hand. Fingertips brushed and a heartbeat later her body disappeared over the edge.

"LISSA!" he howled as he struggled to the precipice between path and hillside. As he crawled to the edge he caught sight of her crazy rollercoaster ride down the grade. The stream had formed a natural slide that coursed straight downward, narrowly missing tree trunks, thick brush and outcroppings of small boulders. At the bottom, he saw a pile of tree trunks lining the bank of the lake, filled full of cream sludge and leaves picked up by the mud on it's way down.

From this angle, a horrified doctor watched his newly reacquainted friend barreling toward certain doom. Just before hitting the base, she yelled, "Oh No!" so clearly he couldn't miss it and in the next moment became instantly airborne. The speed at which she'd traveled and the angle of the mud 'ramp' had propelled her body skyward and out over the surface of the lake. She somersaulted once, clearly without intended to, and landed flat on her back near the middle of the lake. Gasping for breath, Melissa soon surfaced with a great spray of water in all directions.

"Lissa!" he called again as soon as he saw her break the surface. "Swim to shore! I'll find some way down and assist you." But as he began scanning the shore for a likely place to descend, he heard a cry of pure unadulterated terror.

"What's wrong?" he yelled, voice echoing in the sudden stillness.

Melissa's dark head turned his way. Her voice was distant but clear, "Something brushed against me. Zach! Do something. I'm scared!"

"Swim!" called Smith through cupped hands. He grew frantic at the thought that something was down there beneath the azure waters, about to harm one of the few people who, in his whole miserable life, had ever truly cared about him.

Just then the lake surface rippled, followed by a parting of the water. A broad pinkish expanse of flesh was slowly rising upward toward the sky. Its head was a mass of writhing tentacles, each equipped with a single glittering white dot at the end. Though he couldn't see it clearly, Smith strongly suspected a claw tipped those wriggling tendrils. At the center of the squirming mass was a dark maw. He couldn't see what was in it but apparently Melissa had.

Another loud wailing shriek of terror filled the small valley below him. Smith froze from indecision.

Trying to swim for shore, Melissa flailed about with arms partially paralyzed with fear. The creature moved laterally with her, apparently appraising whether or not she was edible.

The Doctor gauged the situation quickly. The beast was large, far too large for him to battle single handedly even if he had something to fight with.

It was suicide to go down there. And then those recent moments of interaction between them flashed against the screen of his mind. Making a decision he knew he'd regret, he positioned himself over the same path she'd taken not more than a minute before, and jumped.

The ride down would have been exhilarating if he didn't know it would soon lead to his demise. He tried snagging branches on the way down in an attempt to slow his speed but, ultimately, he hit the ramp with as much forward momentum as Melissa had. He experienced nausea as he rolled once then twice before crashing into the glassy surface. Plunging down head first, he managed to right himself. Forcing his eyes open he saw nothing but the murky milk colored bottom and a few half-rotted tree limbs.

With lungs screaming for air, he paused long enough to grab one that wasn't too big to easily lug to the surface.

Another scream rent through the cloudy depths and he surged to the surface. His attempts to find her quickly were rewarded simply by locating the towering beast. It looked far larger from down there! Enormous, if one wanted to nitpick over descriptive words.

Hesitating now would be deadly and he knew it. "Melissa! Swim now and don't look back!"

Despite her terror, she turned toward the sound of his voice. "Can't," she gasped through chattering teeth. "If I move it'll get me."

"Just do what I tell you. Now!" Smith hissed through tight lips.

A sudden surge to the left brought Melissa more or less even with him and he gave up a short prayer of thanks because she trusted him enough to obey. The monstrous head swung in her direction. Without a foolproof plan, he followed his instincts and glided in the opposite direction from Melissa and started shouting. Perhaps the beast was deaf because it ignored him. Next, he tried beating the surface of the water with both palms.

Slowly, inexorably, the tentacles began to point in his direction. The rest of the head slowly followed. The deep red maw opened and closed in a sucking motion and Smith felt a bone deep chill that had nothing to do with water temperature.

Once more the doctor bobbed up out of the water and checked on his friend's progress. Halfway there. With a hard scissors kick he struck out after her but didn't get far. The clawed tentacles swooped down, trying to impale him. Yelling in panic, he backstroked and bumped into the log he had hauled to the surface. In that moment of retrospect, he realized he should never have wasted oxygen trying to haul it to the surface. It looked pitifully small in comparison to the general size of the monster. Nevertheless, he had no other weapon.

Using up most of his rapidly dwindling strength he hurled the block of tree trunk at the head as it descended up on him. It hit its mark squarely, split into two pieces and rebounded toward him.

The creature swung its head, ducked under water and resurfaced even closer. So close he could smell its fetid breath and see the large bands of muscle that lined its 'mouth'. Though he wanted no part of this sight, he was rewarded with a glimpse down it's gullet, which was filled with tiny razor-sharp teeth. Fighting down an urge to throw up, he realized the creature wouldn't chew up it's prey but swallow them whole and allow the tiny razors to shred up the victim on the way down.

Once again, those hooked tendrils swept toward him. Smith tried to dodge sideways. There was a sharp jerk around his neck and in the next instant he felt his entire body being hauled out of the water. The claw had hooked itself in the material of his turtle necked tunic, narrowly missing his jugular by millimeters. In the next instant, he was gasping and gagging as his own collar was closing off his airway.

'_How ironic to go out being strung up by one's own garment', _he thought as he struggled to bring his arm up behind him. Another tentacle jabbed at him and he swatted it away. In a blur of motion, he managed to close his trembling fingers around the zipper and yank it down.

Instantly, he dropped down, pulling the sleeves inside out as he fell. The sight would have been comical had its potential repercussions not been so deadly. He hung there with both wrists trapped in the tight cuffs. More tentacles started to search for him and he snap- kicked two in quick succession before they could pierce his flesh. Yanking hard, he tried to free himself and finally it happened. With a rip of material, he fell back into the churning water.

The beast was clearly furious and rounded on him as it sensed his frantic motions in the water.

Well past the point of panic, Smith fought the urge to faint. As he tread water, his now bare right forearm bumped one of the broken log pieces and he ripped his eyes away from this killer long enough to notice its shape.

Carefully, in what felt like slow motion, he wrapped his fingers around the spear shaped chunk of wood and waited. He didn't have long to ponder his next course of action. Tentacles swooped in his direction. When they got within reach, he slashed with the wood and the writhing worms of flesh retracted. At that very moment, he got a perfectly clear shot at the mouth and he took it. With every ounce of strength, Smith lashed upward, and plunging the wooden dagger deep into the soft spot of its gullet.

An eerie scream ripped across the lake and the creature thrashed in all directions, trying to dislodge whatever was causing it so much pain.

Smith didn't need to be told twice to high tail it out of there. He was already swimming for shore when the gigantic head crashed beneath the surface of the water. Part of it bumped him, buffeting him sideways, in the course of it's descent, but that didn't stop Smith's furious paddling. Choking on the water as it ran down his nose and throat, he diverted every last ounce of strength into a frantic flight toward safety.

Much to his utter amazement, he reached the shore without being sucked under by the beast. Coughing and gasping, he dragged himself toward a couple of shoreline bushes before turning to check on pursuit. The distant surface rippled now and then but other than that, the creature had made no further attempt upon his life.

Crying out wordlessly, in pure relief, he glanced up the slope. About midway up the incline, he saw Melissa struggling slowly toward the path. She slipped on the dead leafy foliage now and then but finally found a place to turn and glance back at the lake. Even from this distance, he could see raw fear in her expression. Not for herself, he realized, but for him. Clearly not expecting him to be anywhere but still in the water, she fixed her glazed eyes upon the spot where the beast had first emerged.

"Zachary?!" she shouted through cupped hands. "Oh no…no. Zach!" Melissa's head dropped to her chest and she choked back a sob.

"Never fear! Smith is near!" he called back, with a laugh of pure relief. Then he caught her attention with a weary wave and began his climb up the slope.

Stifling a smile, she yelled, "Isn't that supposed to be 'Never fear, Smith is _here_'"?

"Have I arrived _there_ yet?" was the wry response.

The laugh that burst from Melissa's lips caused a flying lizard to screech indignantly at her and flit away. "Noooo…" and she let the matter drop.

After much scrabbling and clawing through the brush and dead foliage, he finally caught up to her. With a backward glance, he ascertained that he was no longer in imminent danger from the beast below. In fact, the glittering surface of the lake had already calmed as if no life and death battle had just taken place.

"Now what were…we… discussing?" he panted as he continued ascending. "Ah yes…"

"Never fear, Smith is here," they said in perfect tandem.

"Can't tell you how glad I am to hear it." she added sincerely. With a trembling finger, she pointed up the slope. With a grunt, she rose a few more feet. "Looks like there's a place to rest just above us," she explained.

"Well, then by all means, lead the way," came the weary response from no more than a few feet behind her.

Melissa had stumbled upon a narrow ledge of tightly packed carpet of moss. It was, for the time being a perfect place to catch her breath. And to wait for her companion. She heard him progressing upward and decided to stretch out on the thick violet cushion for a few seconds. Her sore muscles were still thanking her for it when she felt his hand coincidentally brush her leg as he gripped the ledge.

With a gasp, and a pained expression, he hauled himself up and attempted to lie down beside her for a well-earned rest. Unfortunately, the ledge was not quite large enough for two adult bodies. Trying in vain to fit into the narrow gap, his wet boot slipped and his full weight landed on top of her.

Melissa grunted at the unexpected impact as his wet body pressed heavily against hers. She felt him try to backpedal but he slipped yet again and nearly dragged the two of them over the edge.

"Wait," she whispered hoarsely, "Don't move yet. Catch your breath _and _your balance before you accidentally knock us both over." As soon as he'd calmed down, she cautiously attempted to scoot out from under him, at least as much as possible. Much to her chagrin, she discovered he was physically drained and far too exhausted to be of much help.

One further effort on her part almost achieved the very thing she didn't want to see happen so she simply lay back, deciding to make the best of an awkward situation. They lay there for a few minutes, his head cradled in the hollow of her neck. Pressing the ground, both of his hands straddled her wet torso. And one knee had, unnervingly, managed to part her legs. To say that this general position was far too suggestive didn't help her frame of mind. Still, she reasoned silently, this wasn't just some stranger. This was her old friend. And the man who had just risked his life to protect her. She felt him continue to draw deep full breaths, and she realized the rapid bounding of a heartbeat against her chest originated from him. Compassion, pure and innocent swept over her and she gently cradled the side of his head with one hand. His hair, soaked and plastered to his skin, hung down limply. With trembling fingertips, she brushed the wet strands off his face.

Instantly he froze. And pierced her with those blue eyes. They were so near she could see dark threads interwoven with cerulean in the depths of his irises. True, they'd been close friends, but never _this_ close. Suddenly, she was uncomfortably aware of the heat of his body as the river water began evaporating in steaming waves off his back.

The white t-shirt, now nearly translucent from the water, clung to every line of his body, and she could see dark hairs curling over the collar of the shirt.

Breath catching in her throat, she concentrated on those compelling eyes, wondering why her body suddenly stopped responding to the simplest command.

Like an artist studying a model's face, she noticed small pores, tiny black hairs that would soon be a 'five o'clock shadow', and the minute lines in his lips that could only be seen upon such close inspection.

Water dripped down his forehead, off the tip of his nose and splashed coolly on her cheek. Slowly the droplet edged down her smooth skin and instinct caused her to raise one fine-boned hand to swipe it away.

Before she could complete the motion, she felt Smith shift and his long fingers curled around hers.

Using the back of his index finger, Smith gently brushed the water away. As the caress left a molten trail of fire in its wake, Melissa felt her lower lip tremble in response.

'_This can't be happening, can it?' _ she almost moaned aloud. '_Do I want this?" _ was her second hasty question. The truth was she didn't know. This man, who's body was pressed so intimately against hers, had always been a friend and nothing more. She hadn't ever expected it to be any other way. More than that, although he certainly wasn't ugly in her eyes, she'd never felt him to be particularly attractive. So why was her skin literally screaming "Don't stop now!"

One finger tip delicately traced a circle around the edge of her parted lips, but he made no further move until one corner of his mouth drew up into a half smile. "How's your health?" he asked bluntly, unexpectedly.

The pounding in Melissa's chest rebounded into her throat. To anyone else it was an innocent sounding question, but it brought back a rush of memories that made her dizzy. In an instant, she was back in the lab, not more than a month after they'd started working together. Smith had been sitting at the computer table with a fresh brewed, steaming mug of coffee right beside him. She'd seen him blow on it then take a few careful swallows. As usual, he'd greeted her in a curt manner, not bothering to hide his denigrating tone. Cold and imperious, that had been his style and he had done little more than bark orders at her since she'd started there.

Tired of the isolation she was feeling, she had walked right up to him and asked, "How is your health?"

She knew she'd gotten through to him when he rewarded her with a startled look.

"My health is exceptional," he'd sputtered, clearly confused.

"Excellent," she'd replied, scooping up the mug, and, without even turning it to the untouched side, she'd taken a swallow of the sweet dark beverage. "Delicious," she said quite calmly, and then as if in afterthought added, "though it would be even better with a little French Vanilla in it." At that point, she stared deep into those blue orbs, placed the cup back exactly where it she'd gotten it from and walked off as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

With an incredulous expression plastered on his face, Colonel Zachary Smith, M.D. had stared at her until she'd waltzed right out of sight.

That ritual was repeated the next few days until he'd finally snapped, "My dear, the urn in the cafeteria provides a more ample supply than my humble little coffeemaker. Why don't you just run along, avail yourself of it and kindly leave my drink alone?"

She'd smiled at that because it was the first time in her entire employment that he'd actually spoken more than few personal words. So what if they sounded hostile, it was better than nothing and she took it as a personal challenge to get him to lighten up.

Grinning ferally, she'd replied, "Because, I want…" and she paused for effect, with a suggestive gleam in her eyes, "_yours."_

Smith should have been offended that some lowly lab worker was playing such seemingly flirtatious games with him, but instead he shook his head in disbelief and went back to his work without further argument.

The next morning, when she went through the ritual, "How's your health," he hadn't looked up but simply stated, "Fine", then handed the mug over and went about his business until she'd finished.

A week later, like a trained lab rats, they'd established the routine. Then one day, she knew she'd broken through that haughty exterior for real. He'd come in late that morning, found her already seated at her own terminal with a creamy cup of coffee in hand and without preamble, asked, "How's your health?"

"Not bad, all things considered," she'd replied, biting her lip to keep from smiling and watched as he brought the mug up, placed his lips over the exact spot she'd just sipped from and took a deep drink, before returning it.

Things had never been the same since. The other workers who noticed the ritual thought it a bit 'kinky' to be doing such a thing in public. And downright weird in light of the fact that they had no sexual interest in one another.

But that weirdness had broken the ice precisely because it _was_ so strange. They'd grown to be such good friends after that, with nothing being too sacred to talk about, no secrets withheld. Smith had allowed her to look into his soul and she'd liked what she saw. Mutual respect grew. In return, that trust brought out the best in him, though he stubbornly refused to let anyone at Alpha Control see it. Not even Clarissa had earned that level of trust.

And now, with their faces a few inches apart, he was resurrecting that old joke. However, this time, without a doubt, she knew he wasn't thinking about sharing a cup of coffee.

"Fine," Melissa whispered as she fought off a sudden quiver of anticipation.

Smith's smile faded out of focus as he drew close enough to lightly brush his lips over hers. It was more of a caress than an actual kiss. Eyes closed, Melissa drew another shuddering breath as the sensation of butterfly wings danced into her memory.

As she inhaled softly, her senses were nearly overwhelmed by the masculine scent of his skin.

In the next instant, she felt his fingertips lightly glide through her curls and she felt her lips part once again in a deep sigh of contentment. Thoughts of their precarious perch quickly faded into the background as she reveled in his gentle touch.

Slowly Smith ran those exquisitely gentle fingers over the right side of her face as if he were a sculptor lovingly putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece.

As if from a great distance, she heard the ragged sound of his breathing, felt his heart thudding mightily against her skin. When she finally dared look up at him, he appeared torn. Desire was flaming in his eyes along with a penetrating look of concern.

Concern for her, she wondered? Or for himself? And then she realized she was in error. It wasn't concern she saw but a silent plea of some kind.

Melissa felt him tremble as his mouth sought hers once again. The contact was hesitant, unsure and over far too quickly.

"_This is really it!"_ her mind shouted as his touch fanned embers into a blaze. As quickly as the thought was born it was replaced by a more repetitious one. "_But is it what I want? Things will never be the same. Certainly not our friendship. So, is it worth the risk?_

Their relationship had been unusually strong and comfortable back on earth until…

And now it was all changing. Into a future potentially filled with bickering and distrust? Or worse, overt hostility? Was the change worth it? She'd seen what dating could do to a friendship and it hadn't been a pretty sight.

Her hands had slipped up along his side, over his chest and were resting lightly on his shoulders when she felt his head dip once more.

'_Please stop!" _she desperately wanted to tell him. "_before things get out of hand."_

Only the emotionally charged word, "Please" escaped before her roiling feelings choked off any further comment.

The word sounded like a passion-filled entreaty. Though it wasn't meant that way, Smith had no idea what she was feeling.

Before she could push him away, his lips captured hers in a slow, deep, massaging caress that had her pulse thundering in her ears and her insides turning to molten lava. Any further thoughts of putting a stop to this ecstasy were fired off into space.

Instead of shoving him off, she now dug her fingers into the muscles of his shoulder, urging him on with a low throaty moan of pleasure. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing except the insistent exploration of lips upon hers.

Pulling him even closer, she slid her fingers through his drying hair. She marveled at the feel of it. His hair was both soft and slightly coarse to the touch, a deliciously pleasant sensation due to it's contrasts. Melissa's exploring brought her hand to his temple and she felt the muscles beneath his scalp roll as he moved his mouth in sensuous little circles upon hers.

An arc of fireworks exploded on the inside of her eyelids as he unmercifully caressed every inch of her swollen lips. Then there was the light tingle of his cheek rubbing against hers and the flare of a supernova as his lips moved suddenly to the hollow just below her ear.

Whatever reservations she'd be harboring dissipated like a popped balloon. She desperately arched her body into his, pulling his face closer and cried out when he rewarded her with a series of quick nibbles down her throat.

Then the tip of his tongue traced a line straight up to her jaw.

An instant later, he was nuzzling the hollow on the other side of her throat. Whimpering with delight, she threw her head back to give him greater access to this blissfully delicate spot.

After some fumbling, Melissa managed to pull the doctor's t-shirt free from his pants and began lightly running the fingers of her right hand along his ribs.

"Ah, Lissa," he groaned her name from deep within his throat as she managed to slide that same hand between their bodies and then through the thick growth of silky hair on Smith's chest. The bold touch provoked him to shudder with delight.

She felt him partially raise his upper torso, allowing her greater freedom to explore the surprisingly supple skin.

Smith returned to tasting her mouth with an urgency that threatened to rip all inhibitions away and Melissa, lost to anything but that incredible moment, meet his satin-lipped caresses with a possessiveness that startled her.

When he hastily pulled away with a ragged exhalation, she was too hungry for his touch to notice anything but the absence of his embrace. The pulsing heat in her veins suddenly turned icy with apprehension.

Slowly, her eyes opened to see his expression. What she saw there was a mixture of pure open-hearted joy and the dawning of something else. She watched that 'something else' grow into confusion. The corners of his thin lips dipped into a frown.

Lips trembling with anxiety, she murmured, "Zachary, did I do something wrong?"

The lines bracketing his mouth flared slightly as he forced a tight smile. Shaking his head, he spoke softly, soothingly, his very tone a caress upon her jangled nerves. "No, my sweet Lissa, as far as I'm concerned you could never do anything wrong."

"Then why…." She started, then cut off the painful question when she observed the glazed, clouded look in his eyes. "Are you sick?"

Quietly, he affirmed, "One minute I was … fine, and the next, everything started to spin. Perhaps I injured myself on the trek uphill and it's catching up to me now."

Hunching his back, he tried to kneel and only partially succeeded. The action brought about a hissing intake of air and he leaned back upon his knees.

Straightening his back carefully, so as not to unbalance himself, Smith fearfully glanced at his right thigh, the source of a steadily escalating ache. Mentally, he berated himself for not having noticed it sooner but Melissa's maddeningly eager responses to his affectionate ministrations had given him a severe case of tunnel vision. Now, the discomfort levels were insistently prodding him. Apprehensively he located the razor fine slits in his pants leg.

Gently parting the material, he noticed the red patch beneath the cloth. Red as in the color of fresh blood. And judging from the darker areas around the slits, there had been more than just a trace of blood lost. Carefully, he pried the edges of the wounds apart to check for depth and was relieved to see that only one of them might require some stitches, although a butterfly bandage could have sufficed as well, the call was that close.

"Apparently, I cut myself on some of the brush. Perhaps a bramble bush of some kind," he explained, not willing to give voice to his true fears.

Inspection over for the time being, he forced his eyes to focus, using the gravity of the situation to keep him alert.

"We have an arduous trek ahead of us, all of it uphill. I believe it best if we attempt a return to the safety of the path as soon as possible."

Already the increase in dizziness was threatening to overwhelm him.

Zachary Smith couldn't bring himself to look directly at Melissa. Didn't want her to see him in this unexpected moment of weakness. True he'd shown a whole host of weaknesses to her over the years and she'd accepted him just the same, but somehow this was different. This morning, she hadn't just given him her unconditional acceptance. Today, within his embrace, she had quite possibly given him her heart. And masculine pride, what little he had of it, wouldn't allow him to show weakness so soon after they had shared such physical joy.

Despite growing waves of vertigo and nausea, he wanted nothing more than to continue in the role of protector. Never a brave man, in fact, often labeled cowardly by anyone who knew him, Smith still couldn't believe what he'd just accomplished. More than that, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn't want to see the look of admiration fade from her eyes. In fact, he desperately wanted to keep it there.

So, with a stifled grunt, he pulled himself as erect as the situation allowed and put a hand out to help her up.

Smith noticed her trying to gauge his condition before she reached out to take his hand.

"I can do it myself." She stated, then saw the hurt in his eyes. "I mean, isn't your back bothering you after all you went through?"

"It went from being a disaster area to a demolition zone long before I hit the water." He responded, forcing a rueful smile. "I assure you Lissa, you can't do any further damage above and beyond what has long since been done."

"You sure?" she asked, even as she prepared to reach out to him.

Smith's long fingers closed around her noticeably smaller hand. "Absolutely!" Then he craned his neck back to gauge the ascent. "I propose that I take the lead this time. The incline appears to be less severe up ahead. I calculate the path to be no more than 20 yards from here."

Without conscious thought, his free hand strayed to his injured thigh and he messaged it lightly, wincing at a ripple of pain induced by that action.

"Let's get moving," he coaxed, fearing another wave of vertigo. Already, he could feel it mounting and definitely didn't want to risk a mistake on the slippery slope.

After about 10 yards, the brush thinned out and he had to pick his way more carefully, traveling from tree trunk to tree trunk for added support. At each stop, Smith turned and gave her a hand up.

Not more than 7 or 8 minutes later, they were just below the path, more or less as he had predicted. With an exhausted groan, he shimmied over the top, then reached back to grab one of Melissa's slender wrists.

'_The only thin part about me,'_ she often joked. He used to shrug it off by telling her that he liked her just the way she was. Of course, at the time, he had never entertained plans to become her lover. At that moment, as he remembered her joke, he realized his previous assurances were now suddenly true.

Helping her stand, he immediately wrapped both arms tightly around her. When she melted into the embrace, he lovingly traced the shape of her cheek with the soft pad of one forefinger, then wound his splayed fingers through her silken tresses.

The doctor saw her pupils dilate with unrestrained pleasure and watched her pink tongue dart out to lick her full lower lip.

"Shouldn't we be getting back?" she whispered, not without a measure of disappointment.

Gently brushing her mouth with his, Smith waited until her lips parted to welcome him. "In a moment," he answered quietly.

Sliding the other hand through her curls, Smith held her immobile as he claimed her lips in a slow, torturously exquisite motion, hoping that she would comprehend the depths of desire and affection he felt for her.

Much too quickly, as far as she was concerned, he broke the contact, and stepped back on unsteady legs.

A fine sheen of perspiration covered his face and Melissa realized, with growing apprehension, that she wasn't the cause of it.

"Zach, this isn't right. A couple of small scratches shouldn't be making you this sick. Are you sure you didn't lose more blood than you think?"

Smith shook his head, as much to clear out the fuzziness as to deny her question. "Not nearly enough to … be causing this much discomfort." Inhaling deeply, he tried to stiffen his back, but even that effort failed.

When his hand moved toward her, Melissa thought he needed assistance and closed the gap between them. Instead of looking for aid, his hand slowly cupped the back of her head and with one thumb he gentle massaged the outline of her ear.

When he spoke again, the murmured entreaty was delivered in earnest. "Listen, to me Lissa, if, for some reason…I am unable to complete the journey back to base camp…I want…want you to leave me and seek assistance. It's imperative that you don't stay to protect me." He looked deeply into her fear-darkened hazel eyes. "Time is of the essence; do you comprehend what I am telling you?"

Seeing the tautness in Smith's features, she understood that he was clearly in trouble. "NO!" she blurted suddenly, "Oh, I understand that you suspect something is terribly wrong but how can I help you at all if I don't know what the problem is!"

"Too early to tell," he murmured succinctly. "Not absolutely sure myself. But I am entertaining suspicions. And I don't want to waste valuable time standing here speculating about it."

In unison, they turned to begin the long uphill walk. Not more than 100 feet up the path, they came to the same area where she had lost her footing. There, beside the stream was his shoulder pack. Picking it up, she noted the weight and crowed aloud, "Mercy, the Robinsons planned ahead!" and she yanked out the full canteen. Without hesitation, she opened it and offered it to him.

Upending it, Smith took several long swallows before she grabbed it and brought it down. "Not too fast," she advised. "Give you cramps that way."

"Too late," he groaned. "A few more won't matter." But he handed over the canteen for her to quench her thirst.

With a swift shake of her hand she told him, "I don't need it yet."

They stopped repeatedly so that the Doctor could catch his breath, and each rest period was growing longer and longer. Finally, she couldn't bear to see him suffering anymore and tried to get his arm around her shoulder for added support.

Atypically stubborn, he waved her off and staggered up the trail. She half-jogged to catch up, then began an odd sideways step trying to keep an eye on him.

"Stop staring," he muttered before too long. "Didn't anyone tell you…it's not…polite." He blew out an exhalation forcibly and almost doubled over.

This time, she physically snagged his arm and closed the gap between them.

Again, Smith tried to warn her off, shrugging her arm away. "Conserve…your strength. You'll…need it. For later…" This time, rather than walking on, his knees gave way. Smith landed hard on them, right in the dirt of the path, but he seemed to take no notice. After a few agonized gasps, he put both hands into the dirt and managed to get his legs back under him. He stood hunched over that way for several minutes, his chest heaving as he pulled in great gulps of air.

He reached for the canteen and she gave it to him. "Please…let me help!" she pleaded.

"Absolutely not!" he muttered with greater conviction. As he started to draw away, she noticed the distinct limp.

'_Please don't play macho with me,'_ she felt like screaming. But even at that moment the image still didn't fit him, despite the fact that he had just intentionally put himself in harm's way to save her. Suddenly, like a fist in the gut, she realized that, in the enormity of the moments on the hillside, she had forgotten to even give him the courtesy of a thank you. And yet…also in direct contrast to his usual 'self', neither had he asked for one. Or reminded her it was required.

Still, it needed to be said. "Zachary. I…I can't believe I didn't thank you properly for saving my life."

Smith gave her the tiniest hint of smile, which, if she had known how he truly felt at the moment, was almost too much energy to expend. Nevertheless, he held up one palm and sighed. "In your own way…you did thank me and I am… eternally grateful for it."

The temptation to argue with him was strong but Melissa suppressed it. Somehow, by the grace of God, the couple managed to reach the top of the rise and saw fairly level ground ahead of them.

Concerned about the last leg of the journey, she decided to encourage him to take a breather.

"Rest," she coaxed. "Only about two miles to go and you'll be home."

With a moan of pain, he bent his seriously stiffening leg and plopped unceremoniously onto a flat grassy spot.

"Must rest. Ten minutes. No more."

Almost instantly he dozed off into a fitful slumber but she didn't have the heart to wake him after the ten minutes passed. Instead she left him alone for closer to twenty minutes until a deep full-body shiver awoke him.

Without hesitation Melissa handed him the nearly empty canteen. After the first drink, she had refused water, intending that he should have it. Now she was glad that she had.

When she glanced into his eyes, she saw an unexpected lucidity in them and it both frightened her and gave her hope. Hope because she felt he might make it on his own and fear that the rumors about clear headedness often preceding death might prove to be true.

Gesturing her closer, he whispered. "It is imperative that I tell you something."

Carefully, she settled down so that she could face him.

"Please, Zachary, save your breath. You'll need it."

"Not this time. There are things that must be said, now is the time. I'm afraid that if I don't speak of it immediately, I may never get the opportunity."

She tried to shush him, to tell him that whatever admission he needed to make could certainly wait until she got him back to camp but if he heard her protestations he ignored them.

"Lissa, I've lived a lifetime striving for achievements, a never ending process to be viewed as a person of note…worthy of respect from my peers. Back on earth, I could claim it all. Power. Wealth. Status. Those things should have brought pleasure…and in some measure, they did. But in the course of that rise to power, I callously trod upon individuals weaker and less determined than myself. With great pleasure, I'm forced to concede. That is certainly not news to you. You've undoubtedly guessed it by how offensively I treated those coworkers at Alpha Control."

He hesitated to draw a few breaths. Great droplets of sweat were pouring down and his skin had taken on a ghastly gray pallor. But it was also clear he was determined to continue no matter how much pain he was in.

"And my conceit knew no bounds. I used to think I knew what love was. In fact, I could have concocted an exceptionally notable definition for it. But today, I…realize…" and he paused as if overcome by whatever it was feeling, "Lissa, you've brought indescribable joy to my life. At least I can say that once in my miserable, self-serving existence, I finally understand what love truly is.

"It was worth it…" his voice trailed off.

"What was?" she queried, desperate to keep him awake.

"Giving it all up…for you," was the enigmatic murmur. The next moment he was lying motionless.

With a huge cry of anguish, Melissa grabbed his head and shook him. "Zach, wake up! Don't do this to me! Do you hear me! Don't give up now!" Feeling as if her own life were slipping a way, she became paralyzed with indecision. Then her medical training took over. Almost, she couldn't bring herself to do it, but she located his carotid artery and pressed trembling fingers to it…and felt a response, faint, thready, but still there.

Now it was truly time for panic. Torn between her desire to stay or to run for help, she suddenly recalled his admonition about not remaining if something happened.

Hastily, she scrabbled to her feet, and started to run in the direction of the Jupiter 2 camp. But running had never been a strong suit of hers and she tired quickly. With her lungs burning and the muscles in her sides spasming, she had to stop several times. Dismayed she realized she hadn't gone far at all.

At first, she thought she was hearing things but with the way her pulse was pounding in her ears, she couldn't be sure. Mustering the strength to straighten up, she caught sight of a white flash in her peripheral vision. Then another one, followed by the thudding of something on the ground.

In minutes, she was surrounded by Professor John Robinson and Major West. At their arrival, without saying a word, she started to run back to where she'd left the doctor, praying every inch of the way that he'd still be alive when she got there.

When they saw the body laying in the grass, both men bolted in his direction. Fueled solely by adrenalin, Melissa managed to quickly join them.

Robinson tried to assess the doctor's condition and found it difficult with the way Melissa was hovering protectively over him. At a wordless, commanding glance from the Professor, West tried to coax her away from her fallen comrade but she would hear none of it. Ultimately, they were forced to surrender and just let her be.

"Don, help me get him up," was all the Professor said after a cursory examination. The Major, not bothering to hide his concerned expression, pulled the unconscious man into a sitting position and a moment later Smith was up and over the Professors shoulder.

This time Don also succeeded in getting Melissa to stand up and together the group moved out at a fast clip. Along the way she explained what happened to them, omitting only the blissful respite on the ledge and the intimate conversations.

At the midway point, Don relieved John. The camp wasn't too distant but Smith was far from a being a lightweight. Of a similar height to the Major, he probably weighed about 20 additional pounds and Don was feeling the difference by the time they got to the perimeter of the camp site.

Maureen ran out to meet them, fear evident in every line of her body. She gave her husband a worried glance and got nothing but a shrug in return.

Robinson had already shifted into command mode, something he did exceedingly well. "Don take him below, put him in his cabin. "Maureen, contact the AC3 and see if we can borrow their physician. And you," he said, pointing to Melissa, "just keeping monitoring him until I find out what Doctor Fernandez wants us to do." Though he didn't say it, he knew instinctively that she was no longer emotionally removed from the situation and might not be as objective as she should be. He didn't want to take the chance. Smith may have been a persistent thorn in his backside but the guy had grown on the people he cared most about, namely his family, and if only for their sakes, he planned on doing everything in his power to keep that man alive.


	3. Chapter 3

The good news was that Smith made it back alive. The bad news Maureen brought with a somber expression, "They said the doctor went out with a rescue team to find a crewmember who had broken his leg falling into crevasse. The survey team was two days out so even with an ATV they figure he will be gone for a while. The physician associate is sick as a dog in his cabin thanks to a bad batch of berries. They say he'll be fine but he's pretty incapacitated."

"Why not ask Melissa?" Judy Robinson asked quietly. "She works in the medical division doesn't she."

"Negative, Judy Robinson," chimed in the Robot, moving closer and putting a comforting claw on her shoulder. "Melissa is listed on the crew roster as a researcher, not actually medical support."

John stood outside the cabin, watching Melissa and Smith. The woman had picked up one limp hand and was holding it, pressed tightly to her cheek. Her eyelashes looked long and heavy as if she wanted to cry but no tears streaks lined her skin.

As if sensing their probing eyes, she turned and gave them a questioning look. Seeing their sullen expressions, she knew. "They can't come, can they?"

"No, not right away. Fernandez is well out of reach. O'Doyle is locked up in the 'head' of his own ship, sick as a dog." He took a few steps closer and pulled up a chair. "We don't know much about treating anything more complex than a few cuts and scrapes and splinting a broken bone."

Hesitantly, Melissa nodded to indicate she understood. Her glazed eyes cleared a bit however, and she calmly stated, "Well, I guess it's up to us to figure out something, isn't it?" She stood up and looking directly at Will, asked him to get a pair of bandage scissors. When the boy returned, she cut off the t-shirt and did a quick exam to see if he'd gotten any bruises that might have caused hemorrhaging under the skin. Aside from a few smaller contusions there was nothing of note.

Next, she made a long cut up the injured leg, cutting away the material until she had a clear view of the thigh. Surprised, she noted that he'd been accurate in his assessment of the injury. There was nothing but a few minor scratches and one fairly deep cut that looked to be free of obvious infection, though the edges were all clearly red and puffed up.

"Bacterial infection?" Judy asked from the doorway.

Melissa shook her head, "No, I don't think so. Of course, we aren't on Earth but most bacterial infections take a longer time to bring about such dramatic systemic changes.

"He got sick far too quickly and it progressed so rapidly."

Stroking his chin with a strong finger, John asked, "You said he told you he probably cut in on brambles on the way up. Is it possible the tips put a resin inside the wound and it's something our bodies can't handle?"

"I…I guess," she responded hesitantly. "Let's get an IV started, with a broad-spectrum antibiotic added just in case Judy is right. And we'll need to figure out some way to get a fever reducer into him. He's obviously running a high temp. I can feel it. Cold compresses will help to some degree but a systemic med like Ibuprofen would work better."

Reluctantly, she got up and with Judy's help quickly located the IV bags and the antibiotic, plus syringes. One of the syringes she injected into the IV bag as planned. It had been a very long time since she'd done any phlebotomy work but, much to her immense relief, the veins on the back of his hand were large and prominent. Hitting the vein proved to be far easier than she expected and soon the IV fluids were running into his bloodstream at a slow drip. With the other vacuum containers and syringe, she drew blood samples from the other arm.

As she worked, she kept going over the events of the morning. The fall, the lake, the creature and ensuing battle to escape, her terrified flight back to land. The sounds of water splashing. Those awful sucking sounds. Despite her terror, she had turned around to see Smith…Zachary…stabbing the beast with the wooden spear, its head thrashing in agony, crashing back into the water a mere hand length away from … and then it hit her like a physical blow. She finally understood where the real danger lay. Not in the brambles or some alien bacteria or virus, but in the barbs of those awful tentacles.

Clutching the tubes close to her body, she called imploringly, "Keep a close eye on him. Please."

Maureen's beautiful eyes scrutinized her face. "Going back to you ship?"

Melissa nodded, "I'm going to run some tox screens on this.

Unconsciously John moved his tall imposing form in her path. "You figured something out, haven't you?"

"I think I know what the cause of this is but without the toxicology screens I can't be sure. Even then, I don't know if this toxin will show up."

Looking very much afraid, the beautiful matriarch of the Robinson family instinctively moved to join her husband. "What toxin? Is this something in the plant life?" she asked, not exactly having all the details yet.

"No. Professor Robinson will fill you in, but there was a beast that attacked us. It had claws on the edge of each tentacle. I thought they served only one purpose. That was to hook the prey and draw it too the mouth, kind of like an earth hydra or anemone. And I just assumed that it physically aided the creature in feeding itself. But that is only part of the story. I think when it finally ran off it must've accidentally bumped Za… Dr. Smith's leg. That's probably where he got the scratches."

She paused to roll one dark red tube between her fingers, awed by the thought that she was holding his life's blood in her hand, just as his life itself now also rested in her hand. When she spoke again, the awe in her voice was unmistakable. "I'm taking these to run through the analyzer. If we are lucky the computer will identify the foreign substance and suggest an antidote."

"And if we aren't lucky?" John asked the obvious question.

"He'll have to either ride it out best as he can or else he'll …." She choked back a sob, unable to continue. When she finally composed herself, Melissa skirted both Maureen and John, before heading to the lift. In moments she was gone, but not before giving one final anguished glance at the doctor's cabin.

Maureen willingly took over the chore of bathing Smith's feverish skin with cool water and monitoring his vital signs. For a brief minute or two he came around, only partially attaining consciousness. But it was enough to get some liquified ibuprofen into him. He took it, barely, coughing as it went down and called out a single word, "Lissa." A second or two later he passed out again.

For the next hour, everyone in the Robinson party, prowled around or near the cabin. William eagerly left now and then to replace the water and to see if he could locate Melissa on her return trip. The wait seemed interminably long. Even Don wasn't immune to his long-time adversary's occasional groan of pain.

Another hour went by, with comatose periods broken only by brief bouts of delirium. Judy took over for Maureen, who had only taken a break long enough to splash cool water on her face and to get a drink. John was standing by the galley and pulled his wife gently in his strong arms. She hugged him tightly, desperate for the reassurance.

Then they both heard it, the heavy tread of boots above them. Legs appeared on the ladder and Melissa jumped the last few feet. A bag was slung over her shoulder and she shifted it in front of her.

The tentative smile on her face brought about some hope. "The screens came back positive," she commenced without preamble. "The computer readouts say that the poison's composition is vaguely similar to that found in black widow bites. Not the exact match but close enough to for the computer to suggest an antivenin that might work. "

Hefting the bag before her, she dumped out several vials and syringes onto the sickbay station's countertop. "The computer suggested that a concoction of several antivenins might be most effective." Melissa was already filling the needle, flicked out the bubbles and squeezed the plunger until only the correct amount of fluid remained. Careful to recap it, she hurried to the doctor's side, sat down on his bed and injected the serum directly into the IV's port.

"Now what?" John asked, already knowing the answer but feeling the need to talk just the same.

"We wait," Melissa explained the obvious. "If this works we should see some improvement fairly soon." But she didn't bother to explain how long 'fairly' soon was. Instead she picked up his hand once more, the one with the IV needle and tubing taped to it, and lightly stroked the dark hairs of his forearm. She had no idea if he could feel it but wanted him to know she was nearby just in case.

Since there was nothing better to do at the moment, she pulled bloody gauze off of the thigh scratches, cleansed the wounds thoroughly, and applied three butterfly bandages over the worst one to join the edges together. It was the best she could do, considering that she had no experiencing suturing skin.

Satisfied that she had done all she could for him, she pulled a chair over, carefully interlaced her fingers through his, leaned back and closed her weary eyes.

Melissa's intent had been to rest a few moments. Dozing off had definitely not been on the agenda. She awoke to memories of his hand caressing her face, lips meeting with such desire that her body ached for more. With a sigh, she tried to focus on reality and realized the lower deck of the ship was dark. Light flooded down the ladder well, and she heard some murmuring from the deck above her. Someone had turned out the bright light of the cabin and replaced it with a small swing arm lamp attached to the edge of a shelf.

The water bowl and cloth had shifted position since the last time she saw them and she realized someone, most like Maureen or Judy, had come in and checked on Smith's condition. Briefly she was flooded by guilt. Mentally she slapped the thoughts away. Zachary had been in good hands. The Robinson's would never have left the doctor unattended, whether she had slept or remained alert. Feeling immense gratitude just the same, she sat up and immediately felt for a wrist pulse. This time it was steady and definitely stronger.

Careful not to wake him, Melissa gently placed the back of her fingers against the still heated skin of his cheek, grateful to see that the fever had lessened slightly. His skin, previously tanned from exposure to the suns of many worlds, was regaining some of its normal color. That was good news. He'd apparently survived the worst of it and bedrest was now the best medicine of all.

She checked the IV catheter site to make sure it was still open and felt his fingers curl around her hand. An odd mixture of anxiety and relief welled up within her.

What would be things be like when he was finally awake and back to his old self? She wondered. After all, he'd been poisoned down in the lake and probably not in his right mind by the time they stopped on the ledge.

'_Don't forget the apology the first day you saw him here'_ she chastised herself. The sight of him groveling on his knees, begging for her forgiveness had been both painfully forthright and boyishly playful, so very typical of the man she had known and cared about years ago. Smith had distinguished himself as someone who was always so unpredictable and therefore never boring. Extravagantly flamboyant, hardnosed, ingenuous, haughty, compassionate. Utterly selfish in one breath and charitable the next. She'd seen it all during their time together. But there was one thing he had never done and that was lie to her. No matter how difficult any admission might have been, she had stuck by him and continued to believe in his own innate goodness.

Smith had consistently scoffed at that attitude. It wasn't him and he knew it. A fantasy…'a figment of her imagination', he'd insisted during one of their heart to heart discussions and yet… The barrier had been breached. The sharing of his deepest self became so natural with Melissa. It had been an incredibly purifying and liberating experience for both of them. And it was one of the reasons why she had forgiven him yet again.

Suddenly Smith gave a shuddering gasp and flailed out with his arms as if fighting off some horrifying demon.

Jumping to her feet Melissa grabbed both arms near the wrists to keep him from accidentally tearing out the IV. Soon, the combination of her touch and some soothing words, managed to get him to relax.

After checking his vital signs, she gently wiped the sweat from his face. Smith muttered something incoherent, forced one bloodshot eye open and saw her hovering nearby. "Don't leave me," he finally rasped, sounding very child-like.

Reaching for a cup she gave him a sip of cool water, and said with a slight grin, "Is that in the next hour? Or for good?"

A muscle tugged at one corner of his mouth, drawing it back into an enigmatic half smile. Before any comment could be made, the doctor's eyelids drooped, and he visibly fell limp again.

"DRAT!" she said aloud, frustrated by the lack of a good answer to her question, as well as his renewed unresponsiveness.

"Something wrong, dear?" Maureen poked her head around the corner. She came in and sat on the corner of the bed down by Smith's feet. "Want me to take over for a while? You can't do much more for him. Now it's just a waiting game."

Shaking her head solemnly she spoke in a low voice, "I would really rather stay, if you don't mind my being here so long."

"Don't be silly," Maureen said with a broad smile. "You are welcome anytime." With that comment, she glanced at Smith meaningfully as if she realized that any developing relationship between Melissa and Smith would only be of benefit to the both of them.

Despite herself, Melissa blushed. She knew exactly how Mrs. Robinson meant it and felt a flush of gratitude to these people who had cared enough to keep their stowaway around despite the stories she'd heard about him since the reunion. They were certainly exceptional people, the kind of humans who were probably the perfect representatives to colonize a new world.

"Thanks," she said, smiling with her eyes. "I guess, I'll make myself comfortable in here for a while."

She changed the dressing on his leg, noticing the redness and swelling around the wound had markedly decreased. It was also time to pull the IV and she did so in such a manner so as not to wake him.

Although she knew he couldn't hear her, Melissa said with a wry twist of her lips, "Good news Zach, you'll live to go on making everyone crazy, including me. And believe it or not, I wouldn't have it any other way!"

Kicking off her shoes, she leaned back in the chair by his bed until her rear end was practically falling off, propped her feet on the bed, and with folded hands on her stomach, allowed her mind to drift off to more pleasant memories. She was sleeping soundly in less than 5 minutes.

Nothing out of the ordinary interrupted her dreams, yet a sixth sense told her something had changed. With a start, she awoke and found herself covered. Not that she could see the blanket. All the lights were out in the Jupiter 2 except for some panel lights near the science station. The smooth material of the blanket covered her clear up to her chin.

Waiting until her eyes adjusted to the practically non-existent light, she looked for her patient. Even in the dimness she could see the bed held no person. In fact, someone had placed the blanket on her instead. Worried that Smith might have had a relapse and was wandering around outside and delirious, she threw off the cover and bolted toward the only bright light in the area, the lift well.

Not bothering to wait for it, she climbed the ladder to the main deck. At first glance, she took in several facts. The viewscreen revealed a sky of the deepest navy blue. On a world with bright moons, the color was not unusual. Instrument panels were switched on and pulsing at odd intervals to show that various scans were under way. Again, that wasn't atypical since her own commander never trusted this world enough to sleep without forcefields on.

And then she saw him, or just the top of his salt and pepper hair rather, in one of the command chairs. He was sitting so low in the chair that she thought he'd shrunk quite a few inches. Laughing at herself Melissa instantly figured out that he was just semi reclining in the large seat.

She hastily walked his way, with two prominent queries in mind. How was he doing physically and what was a mental state.

Pulling to a stop behind him, she placed one questioning hand on his shoulder and was rewarded with a warm smile.

Facing him finally, she asked, "Don't you think you should be downstairs resting?"

When he spoke, his voice was soft. "I was contemplating that very action when you arrived. But perhaps we should stay here for a while."

The way he used the word 'we' sent delicious little shivers hurtling up her spine. "Come on Zachary, you were just subjected to a great deal of trauma. I would really be upset with myself if you suffered a relapse."

"My dear, your doctoring skills were unsurpassed and this patient is well on his way to a full recovery." In a smooth gliding motion, he slid his fingers around her wrist and pulled her closer.

"Perhaps, but not technically recovered just yet. Back to bed with you!" She sharply waved a finger toward the lift.

Smith shot her a suggestive smile in response. '_Not alone'_ the look seemed to say. Rather than voicing it, however, he stood up with difficulty and intertwined his fingers through hers. "Come outside with me, the night sky is exceptionally beautiful."

Melissa sighed through pursed lips and studied his unfathomable expression. "It's late!" she protested half heartedly, though his touch was stirring up a powerful, heated feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"1 AM" confirmed Smith with a slight nod. "Regardless of the late hour, I suddenly feel the urge to stretch my legs and would certainly rather do so in the company of a lovely young woman than suffer the company of that blasted bodyguard." With a slight jerk of his chin toward the airlock, he indicated the Robot, standing silent and alert. "I presume the Professor posted that rolling rattletrap by the exit to keep his 'sensors' on me."

"You've cut me to the quick," the Robot stated rather indignantly, waving a claw toward his heart as if he'd just been stabbed. "The Professor did no such thing."

Smith stiffened his back with some obvious effort and spoke more loudly than before. "Liar! You perfidious popinjay…don't deny it!"

"I do not deny the order…only that the Professor ordered it. It was in fact," the Robot swiveled his torso to face them squarely. "the Major's doing."

"Figures," grumbled the doctor. "that man is always looking to make my life miserable."

Laughing at the renewed fervor in his tone, Melissa suggested, "Zachary, maybe we should surrender while we are ahead."

"Surrender? I? BAH!" he sputtered indignantly, sounding very much like the man she used to work with. "That word is not part of my vocabulary." With Melissa still in tow, Doctor Smith pulled her toward the airlock. He tried hard not to limp but wound up hobbling just the same. The Robot only made a half-hearted attempt to block him but Smith brushed on by, pulling her along behind him.

Once he got to the bottom of the ramp, he twisted slightly, jabbed a finger back at the silver sentinel trailing after them and said, "I am in good hands you … you…"

"You lascivious lothario," the robot stated, extending a claw to point at the Doctor and erupted in a grating, coughing sound that clearly was intended to be laughter."

"How **dare **you!" Smith growled, puffing out his chest.

Melissa's chuckles caught his attention and he grinned sheepishly.

"Begone, boobie!" he commanded imperiously. "We have no need for a peeping tom. The forcefield is still active and we have no plans of going beyond the safety perimeter."

The Robot's bubble clunked down in agonized defeat. "How tragic," he muttered loud enough for them hear as he rolled away, "that such a devoted, unselfish, understanding servant such as myself should be treated like a mere machine."

Smith opened his mouth to say something, then choked on a fountain of laughter which ultimately left him speechless. It had been such a long time since she'd seen him laugh like that and the infectious nature of it had her joining him. Not wanting to offend the Robot, she worked hard at stifling the sound but only barely succeeded.

"You are bad!" she advised him.

"No, my dear girl, I am actually quite good as I'm sure you have already discovered." And since he still had one of her hands clasped tightly in his, Smith was able to pull her closer.

With a tight grin he probably couldn't see, she stated, "Yeah, good and vain!" but she allowed him to close the gap between them.

Surprisingly, Smith chuckled. The distance remaining seemed charged with electricity that beckoned her. Yet, for some reason she hung back.

Sighing contentedly, the doctor threw his head back and looked up into the dark, star filled night. "Look," he suggested softly. His pointing finger was barely visible in the reflected glow of the upper deck viewscreen.

When she followed his lead…she took in the breathtaking expanse of the universe laid out before them. Huge clusters of stars boldly glittered in the canopy above them. The lack of pollution lent a crystal clarity to the tiny bright jewels suspended in the velvety blackness. Two glowing moons were waxing large above them, one enormous, gray mixed with burnt umber in color and heavily cratered. The second loomed not far from the first, oddly speckled in a pinks and greens.

Melissa had certainly seen those moons before, and had wondered what geological makeup of the rocks there could have caused the various colorations but tonight they were simply something to be appreciated.

"What an indescribably beautiful sight," he sighed blissfully. "How pathetic that I should have been immune to such a glorious vista until this night!"

Inclined to agree fully, she was even more aware of the way his thumb was lightly caressing her skin, sending little embers of delight coursing up her arm.

"Yes, it is certainly incredible. Isn't it ironic that sometimes we have to lose everything before we can fully appreciate the other things we would never have noticed otherwise?"

This time, Smith turned to face her, and with a shuddered sigh, he pulled her tightly into an embrace. He stood there, enveloping her with both arms, her head resting on his chest. She could hear every beat of his heart and the primal rhythm of it spoke meaningfully to her.

Placing a knuckle under her chin, he brought her lips within reach. Smith placed a single, brief and tender kiss there, before encircling both arms around her once more.

"Lissa? Things will never be the same again, you know that, don't you?" he asked, barely above a whisper. He tried to hide the insecurity in his tone but failed at the attempt. "I…I'm not an easy person to be around…"

"Tell me something I don't know," she responded seriously, then began to rub the tense muscles of his back.

Smith groaned with pleasure when she pressed her body fully against his.

"Alright, how about this to start. I almost lost my life yesterday and for the first time in my entire existence I don't regret having put someone else's best interest before my own. For the first time since being trapped aboard the Jupiter 2, I can honestly admit that I couldn't care less if I never get back to Earth. There's probably nothing back there for me anyway. "

After a brief contemplative moment, Smith finally continued, "Your direction is out there," and he nodded up toward the stars, "and… and I want to be with you. The only thing I honestly regret is not being able to court you properly."

Nuzzling the material of his shirt, Melissa felt a huge lump forming in her throat. "I left Earth to get away from the material things, Zachary. You needn't buy me things. I only want your trust, respect and love."

"They are yours for the asking, my dear," he murmured into her soft curls. "For now and always…if…you'll have me."

Melissa's only answer was to meet his satiny lips with a caress that more than adequately sealed the promise to be his.

Author's note: This story was created for a friend , who asked me one day if I'd create a story in romance novel style, with Smith as the lead. I thought it would be fun and wrote it for her, which is one reason why this is so different from my other LIS stories. You, the reader, probably think it's weird but now you know there was a method to my creative madness. Susie became a good friend of mine and often encouraged me to write. She was in her mid-30's when she developed colon cancer (about a year after my writing this story in 2004) and passed away June 2006. She is sorely missed!


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